Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Real Courage

Every time I take the 66 bus I can’t help but ponder the meaning of courage. Or, more specifically, my lack of courage.

The 66 serves a route that is heavily populated by blind people. (Or visually impaired for the PC Nazis.) Nearly every stop from where I board on Broadway to the Littleton downtown light rail station involves a blind person getting on the bus. They all seem to know each other, and which stops they get on, because they greet each other and take seats in the front as they discuss their plans for the day, politics, tell jokes or even trade friendly insults with each other. When we arrive at the station, they all pile off the bus, thrust their white canes in front of them, and march across the busy street to get to the light rail. I used to be frightened for them, now I am just in awe of them.

And I can’t help but wonder if I would have the courage to wander out into the world without being able to see my surroundings. I’m pretty sure I would not. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong person. I can get stuff done and I can handle a lot of situations, but I really don’t think I would prosper if I ever lost my vision.

Today I boarded the 66 bus an hour later than usual, and the blind people had already been delivered to their destinations. I sat alone on the bus, wondering about their daily lives and a little sad I’d missed them. Then we pulled up to a stop on Littleton Boulevard, and I saw the tip of a white cane come through the front door of the bus. The woman who stepped up was one I’d seen before. She was pretty and usually laughing. She carefully tapped her cane along the seats before settling in the front.

Today, there was something different about her. It struck fear in my heart, while at the same time bringing a tear to my eye at the thought of her courage. She had her usual heavy backpack on, but strapped on her stomach was a baby of about 8 or 9 months old. The baby was facing toward me, and was adorable. I noticed the woman took a little more time settling in, mindful of the precious package she was carrying. The baby had a lot of dark curly hair, and large brown eyes that seemed to take in everything around her. She was seeing everything her mother could only hear.

I immediately had mixed feelings. How safe was it to take a baby out into the world when you couldn’t see? What if they got lost? What if she stepped out in traffic? How could she possibly keep that baby safe? What if?… Well, obviously my prejudice was showing, and I reasoned with myself pretty quickly that like any other mother she was capable of taking care of her child. Perhaps she was even more aware of the goings on around them, due to a heightened sense of hearing and smell. Perhaps she was even a superior parent because she could sense dangers long before we ever would. She nuzzled her nose in her baby’s hair, and the baby smiled and cooed. Obviously they loved each other. I wondered if the mother knew she and her daughter didn’t share the same color of skin.

When we exited the bus at the station, I was worried about them crossing the street. I hung back and followed them off the bus. This time, instead of the woman sticking her cane out into the street and heading boldly into traffic, I followed her as she walked down the sidewalk to the crosswalk. She stopped, unaware that I was stalking her. Where I would look both ways for cars, she did the same, only with her ears. She tilted her head slightly toward the left, then toward the right, listening for the sound of cars. I sensed her hesitancy, and jumped at my chance to help.

“Are you crossing here?” I asked. She seemed relieved.

“Yes. Funny how the cars never seem to stop.”

“Yeah, but we’re good to go now,” I said and she followed the sound of my voice into the street. “Your baby is adorable. She’s made my day,” I said.

“Thank you,” She said as we hit the other side of the street. She was beaming like any proud mother, and I was suddenly just a little bit jealous of the adventure they would be having for the day while I reported to the office for mundane labor.

July 27, 2016 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments


            My first grandchild, Petrichor Quimby Augustus finally decided to grace us with her presence late Saturday night. Petrichor means the scent of rain and Quimby is a family name. We  call her Petra, and spend most of our day staring at her beautiful face as she sleeps. I am at a loss for words to describe my feelings about this new addition to my family. Looking down at her is just like looking at Jessica 25 years ago. They look exactly the same, and I can hardly believe that this is my granddaughter.

            Jess was a trooper through the birth, sticking to her plan not to use an epidural or medication. Her labor was long and hard, about 48 hours from start to finish. But she pushed all 8 lbs 15 oz of beautiful baby out. When I saw Jessica right after the delivery, I nearly panicked, but managed to hold myself together. My little girl looked so pale, and had broken blood vessels in her eyes from pushing. She looked small and scared in the big hospital bed, and even though she was now a mother herself I wanted to pick her up in my arms and rock her.

            Now that we’re home I am seeing the great mother Jessica is, and reminded of  how powerful the instinct is. Seeing my baby with her own baby is amazing, and literally leaves me speechless.

October 5, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , | Leave a comment





I knew the birth of my first grandchild would be a life-changing event, but the circumstances surrounding her pending arrival have become historical. Petrichor, or the “Scent of Rain,” is the name my lovely daughter and her mate have chosen to bestow upon her, and for months now we have all embraced it, with rainstorms bringing smiles to our faces.

Apparently little Petra is demanding the level of attention worthy of her, and the entire state of Colorado is experiencing the scent of rain, as half the state is flooding, including Longmont, the home she will be coming into. Historical levels of rain have fallen this week, as Petra gets into position to be born. Mountain towns have been flooded and cut off from the rest of the world, and roads have been washed away, stranding motorists and homeowners. Rain has fallen for nearly a week, with no end in sight.


September 13, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment




               Much like the song from the cult classic Rocky Horror Picture Show, I feel like I’m in a time warp. I watch Jessica’s belly grow each week, and I watch all the excitement, anxiety and joy that she is going through as she awaits the birth of her first child. As my child, it’s all new to me to see her begin a new life. I’m very happy for her, and know she is finally getting to experience the pure joy of being a parent. But I also know she will probably never sleep until noon again, and that a good portion of her days will be filled with concern for her child.

               As I watch her nesting in her new home, I have vivid memories of 24 years ago, when I was in the exact same position she is. I remember very well the summer heat, carrying her inside of me, happiness and excitement at the beginning of my new life. I remember all the feelings, and I remember dreaming about my future.

               Now I am my future. And all of my worlds seem to be colliding. It’s like I’m 20 years old, and 45 years old, and 65 years old all at the same time. I can remember the past, am loving the present, and can see a future full of love and grandkids. I guess I never really expected to live this long. Not that I planned on dying, I just didn’t picture this far ahead in my future.

July 27, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , | Leave a comment